


Brother Dear

by Lindentreeisle (Captainblue)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hound of the Baskervilles, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainblue/pseuds/Lindentreeisle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene for Hounds, inspired by two phone conversations in S2.  Speed-written, unbeta'd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother Dear

Mycroft's been expecting the call for nearly twenty-four hours, which is why he's able to pick up on the first ring, with no more than the barest glance at the caller's name.

"Sherlock."

"Hello, brother dear," the voice drawls. Oh, lord. It's going to be one of _those_ conversations, clearly.

" _Sherlock._ "

"How _are_ you?" His voice is so rich with saccharine that he must be able to feel it gritting between his teeth.

Mycroft stifles a sigh. "I don't suppose you care to explain why you were breaking into a secure military research facility yesterday afternoon?"

"I'm afraid I haven't the _foggiest_ idea what you're referring to," Sherlock chirps.

"You muddled through without being taken into custody, or I would have heard before now." Additionally, it's clear from the ambient noise that he's using a cell phone.

"Oh, you mean that business at Baskerville! That was silly, wasn't it?" It's the opposite of how they usually speak to one another: all banalities, nothing direct or even cogent.

"If you haven't called to explain yourself than I don't know why you've bothered at all," Mycroft says crisply.

"Least said, soonest mended, Mycroft." God, even his name sounds syrupy when Sherlock pronounces it like that; he'd much rather have it the usual way, short and sharp as a dagger. "You're so very clever, I'm sure you can puzzle out why I've called."

Mycroft exerts a supreme effort of will to stop himself grinding his molars. "Sherlock, this is beneath you." The problem being, of course, that it isn't. An ordinary person, hearing this conversation, might suspect that Sherlock was attempting to place himself in Mycroft's good graces.

Ordinary people had _no idea_.

"You should hear all the silly things people talk about up here," Sherlock says sweetly. "Giant hounds! Goodness, it sounds perfectly dreadful."

At last, the meet of it. Mycroft has seen that ridiculous excuse for a documentary, of course; conspiracy theorists flock to research facilities like carrion birds. It is in fact one of the reasons places like Baskerville are identified as such. Conspiracies can make a very useful smokescreen. Nothing at Baskerville can even remotely be connected to the claims being made about this alleged hellhound, of course, but by now Sherlock knows that perfectly well. And if he suspects something unusual or even criminal is happening, it may be worth a second look.

"Someone at your little lab has been _very_ naughty," Sherlock confirms.

"Tell me who," Mycroft says, knowing Sherlock won't. He'll insist on proving it himself; to a limited audience if they were all lucky, to random passerby off the street if they weren't, which would only compound the amount of explaining Mycroft was going to have to do over this lark of Sherlock's.

"I couldn't _possibly_ , love, not just now." _Dear_ was bad enough, but this- Mycroft closes his eyes, defeated.

"What do you want, Sherlock?"

"Priority ultra access to Baskerville, and full cooperation from Major Barrymoore for a twenty-four hour period." Sherlock snaps the voice off like a switch, and Mycroft can feel the tension in his shoulders ease.

"Don't be absurd. Twelve."

"Twenty-four. Love."

Mycroft very nearly groans before he manages to stop himself. _Brother dear_ in Sherlock's normal tones would at least sound properly sarcastic, but this- this is torture. " _Fine._ "

"Don't worry, Mycroft," and Sherlock sounds perfectly normal, disdainfully amused, now that he has what he wants. "I'll be sure to call again if I engender any national security breaches."

This time Mycroft lets himself sigh. "Please don't."


End file.
